Decode
by xx-Twisted Fantasy-xx
Summary: Sydney becomes one with her sins.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Academy or the lyrics.**

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><p><em><strong>How can I decide what's right?<br>When you're clouding up my mind **_

She remembers a time when things were simple, cut-and-dry.

She remembers a time when she cringed at the mere concept of the word _vampire._

_Cruel, mean, nasty, blood-sucker, monster. . . no, _demon_._

They were the creatures of her nightmares, a black fantasy that she simply couldn't escape. No matter how fast she would run, they were always faster. There one moment, and gone the next. But they never truly vanished. In the space of a second, they were there, eyes wicked and gleaming in the darkness, fangs extended, ready to eat her alive.

She would always scream.

But those weren't _real. _They were just dreams, that's all.

Of course, Dad always told her to hold her fear close to her heart, _keep it in your soul._

And she did.

She recalls seeing her first vampire, an earth-wielding Moroi whose name she can't think of—for it's buried too deep within the darkest corners of her mind. She thinks that it began with an M.

Melody, or maybe it was Monica.

Either way, the vampire _(blood-sucker, monster, demon) _was fairly nice. Nice enough, at least, that she had been able to relax considerably. Her father did _not_ approve, young lady. Moroi were still unnatural. Wrong. Sinful. Bad. Terrible. Rotten. And she'd better remember that, above all else, she mustn't ever forget that.

And she didn't—not even when she helped Rose, a fugitive within the vampire-world.

It was always a whisper.

_Cruel, mean, nasty, blood-sucker, monster. . . no, _demon

And then. . . then she met Adrian.

_**Can't win your losing fight  
>all the time<strong> _

Not a monster, but a broken boy on the brink of madness.

A boy who is most definitely losing the fight, drowning in his own nightmares.

He has a broken heart, courtesy of Rose Hathaway. A fact she learned from Jill—a girl _(vampire) _that is more of a sister to her than Zoe—as of late, at least.

He knows what it's like to hurt.

She knows what that's like, too.

It's a raw agony that pierces her chest, day after day. She stays within the lines she was given, the perfect glass doll for people to admire. She sees those feelings in his eyes, and he always does what's expected of him. They both do.

They are protectors, too.

They hover over over Jill, or Jailbait, as he so affectionately calls her, as if they are her parents. And she can never evade thoughts of her younger and older sisters. The people she would do anything—and everything—to keep safe. Even make a deal with the devil, because, as the saying goes, an eye for an eye. And an eye was exactly what she got.

**_Not gonna ever own what's mine_  
><em>When you're always taking sides<em>  
><em>You won't take away my pride<em>**

No ones messes with her sisters—especially Keith.

She won't allow anybody to hurt her loved ones. She might not be as strong or rebellious or fast as Rose, but she can stand up for herself, _thank you very much._

Not that Adrian would ever believe that, at least not after she hurt her head. She barely escaped being confined to her bed for a week, and that obnoxious Moroi would never let her forget it. Every time something bad happened, be it a paper cut or a concussion, he would always offer to fix it for her, genuine concern flashing in his pretty-boy eyes. But she's still way too scared, and his magic is still _wrong. Bad. Sinful._

She will _not let_ herself be degraded in that way.

_**No, not this time  
>Not this time <strong>_

"_Not this time," _she always says dismissively.

**_How did we get here?_  
><em>when I use to know you so well<em>  
><em>How did we get here?<em>  
><em>Well, I think I know<em>**

Boundaries.

He had his and she had hers.

They knew they could never cross them, she'd surely be sent to a Re-education Center, _(Hell) _then. And anyway, he is just Adrian, and they are just friends—and nothing more, much to the dismay of Jill and Eddie, who had taken to singing: _Sydney and Adrian sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G! _Which is utterly unfounded, or so she tells herself. They hardly even speak to one another outside of talking casually about his artwork. . . and she's only blushed once and that was because of that terrible innuendo he made when she complained about not having any work to do.

God, was _that_ unnecessary.

**_The truth is hiding in your eyes_  
><em>And it's hanging on your tongue<em>  
><em>Just boiling in my blood,<em>  
><em>But you think that I can't see<em>**

Not that she doesn't feel her stomach twisting when she sees him. It's a mixture of repulsion and. . . and something else that she never wants to identify. She just knows that he makes her blood boil, _(sing)_ out of anger _(or something better. . .). Bad. Wrong. Demented. Sinful_, or so the voice in her head claims.

He feels it too, or so she guesses. She thinks that she can see the anguish writhing just beneath the surface, intensified by his insanity.

And, in rare moments, she wants to embrace it.

She wants to be one with the Darkness, she wants to step out of her shell, and maybe have a little fun—even though she knows that she'll shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. And beyond that, Adrian is too damaged to care, she'll have her heart ripped out.

Is it wrong that she doesn't care?

_Yes._

**_What kind of man that you are_  
><em>If you're a man at all<em>  
><em>Well, I will figure this one out<em>  
><em>on my own<em>  
><em>on my own<em>**

He's a Moroi.

Not a Strigoi, that has to count for _something._

Only it doesn't.

_**I'm screaming "I love you so..."  
>But my thoughts you can't decode<strong>_

Inside, she is screaming.

She _can't_ feel this way, it goes against what she knows. He's a _(monster, blood-sucker, demon)._

He's a vampire—a mortal one.

_(Not a Strigoi, a soulless vampire, one who can't die.)_

She believes that part of him has already died already.

**_How did we get here?_  
><em>when I use to know you so well<em>  
><em>How did we get here?<em>  
><em>Well, I think I know<em>**

She's beginning to understand. . .

**_Do you see what we've done?_  
><em>We're gonna make such fools of ourselves<em>  
><em>Do you see what we've done?<em>  
><em>We're gonna make such fools of ourselves<em>**

One mistake.

One slip-up—that's it, they slipped. That's why they're lips brushed against each other. That's why it felt nice, because he held onto her, and told her that it would be okay.

"_It's okay, Sage."_

She isn't so sure of that. . .

They are idiots, and. . . and if anyone hears about this, it'll all be over. No more Jill or Eddie or. . . she can't bring herself to think of his name, she just knows that it can't be over.

**_How did we get here?_  
><em>when I use to know you so well<em>  
><em>How did we get here?<em>  
><em>Well, I think I know<em>**

And now she finally gets it.

_**I think I know  
>I think I know<br>There is something I see in you  
>It might kill me I want it to be true<strong>_

She sees the Real Adrian Ivashkov, and she doesn't see anything wrong with him. In her eyes, he isn't a womanizer, or a jerk, or a monster.

He's just Adrian.

The whisper inside of her head is fading away.

And it might kill her, but she is more than ready to deal with the pain, she is one with her sins.

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><p><strong>How was it? That was my first attempt at writing for SydneyAdrian. I hope it was okay. . . please leave me a review, I'd love some feedback. Oh, and Adrian's innuendo was: I've got a job for you, but it blows. . . I read it on a joke website and I thought it was hilariously inappropriate and I couldn't resist giving it a mention.**


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